Anger Management
by Felix and Ferdinand
Summary: The Manoso clan move back to Trenton after living in Boston for 15 years. While Ranger plots revenge on those responsible for a drive-by on Tank, Stephanie tries to figure out how to break up with Morelli, to whom she's technically still engaged.


**01.01**

**"ANGER MANAGEMENT"**

by Felix McDoodster and Ferdinand J. Smith

* * *

**- Part One -**

For as long as Maria Manoso could remember, family dinner had consisted of pizza, onion rings, hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, buckets of fried chicken, colossal double cheeseburgers, steak sandwiches, and French fries, all provided by The Longhaired Tortoise, a greasy spoon on the ground floor of her father's Boston security business. He had purchased the Tortoise shortly before she was born in an attempt to keep her mother from running off in the middle of the night to find the nearest twenty-four fast food joint. It was a costly venture, but well worth it. After all, it hadn't taken long for every psychopath with half a brain to figure out the easiest way to kidnap Stephanie Plum was to attack while she was idling at the drive-thru. And after paying out three seven-digit ransoms and reluctantly agreeing to one full night with a cracked-out sorority pledge, her choice of activity, he came to the conclusion that his stance against junk food was _nothing_ compared to his stance against shaking his groove thang on a rotating platform, wearing nothing but nipple tassels and a chainmail thong.

But that was then. That was _Boston_. And this, Maria could only presume, as she sat in the dining room of her father's newly-renovated penthouse apartment, was hell.

Across the table, Maria's sister Finn dropped her fork on the table and folded her arms over her chest. "Lemon chicken _again?__­__"_ she asked. "Honestly, I don't even know why I bother."

"Come on, sis," Maria said, her usual sarcasm on display. "We all know how much you _love_ spending time with your family."

Finn glared at Maria. "When I want _your_ opinion, I'll ask for it," she said. Then she scrunched up her nose and pointed to the mound of food on Maria's plate. "And just what is _that_ supposed to be?"

"It's a brain." Maria stabbed it with her fork and took a bite. "Mmm. Tastes like chicken."

_"EEEEW!"_ Finn squealed. _"Mo-oo-om!_ She's doing it _again!"_

Stephanie rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. "Girls, give it a rest," she said. "Your father is trying to concentrate."

And they all turned to watch as Ranger fought with his cutlery.

"Shrimp fork?" he mumbled. "Salad fork? _Goddammit!_ How many fucking forks do you need?!"

"Here, Ranger," Stephanie said. She picked up his salad fork and handed it to him. He stared at it for a while, and then flicked an appreciative look in Stephanie's direction.

"Babe."

"I don't know why we had _move_ here, anyway," Finn said.

Stephanie cleared her throat and reached for her wine glass. "We've been through this, Finn," she said. "One of your father's business partners was involved in a car accident and needs to keep off his feet, so your father has to run the office for a while."

"Huh?" Finn wrinkled her nose in confusion. "I thought you said it was because of the pollen count."

"Um . . . er . . ."

Stephanie looked over at Ranger for support.

"I think what Mom means," Maria offered, "is that Uncle Choco-Bear got gunned down in a drug bust and Dad can't find anyone with the mental capacity to handle this office. So instead of cutting his losses and selling off parts of the RangeMan empire, he's decided to uproot his family from the comfort and familiarity of Boston and transplant it into the second ring of hell. It's something Dad's financial advisors like to call 'cost effectiveness'." Maria turned to her parents. "Mom? Dad? Correct me if I'm wrong."

Stephanie narrowed her eyes on Maria. "Eat your chicken."

"This is _so_ not fair," Finn said, heaving a sigh of exasperation. "I had _plans_, Daddy! I was on the _prom committee!_"

"Bomb committee?!" Ranger jumped up and pulled out his Glock, looking for something to shoot.

"Relax," Stephanie said to Ranger. "She didn't say _bomb_, she said _prom_. You remember proms, don't you?"

Ranger gave a light chuckle, tucked his gun back under his belt, and sat down again. "Proms," he said. "That's right. They're like little shrimps." His eye twitched. "Shrimp fork. _Goddammit!_"

_"Ooooookay."_ Finn pushed away from the table and dropped her napkin on her plate. "I'm going out for a while. Don't wait up. And Daddy, I let Lisa borrow my cerulean boots--the tall ones with the two-inch heel, not the short ones with the sparkles, because those have a pointed toe, and the _last_ thing Lisa needs is _another_ pair of boots that make her ankles look fat--so if you check your GPS _thingy_ and _think_ you see me walking around the mall, it's not me, okay? _Bye!"_

The door clicked shut behind her, and Ranger looked around the table, confused.

Maria sighed. "Can I go now?"

"Only if you promise not to hack into the security systems again," Stephanie said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come off it, Maria," Stephanie said. "Two days ago, someone hacked into the computer system and changed all the Es to Ws and the Ls to Ts, and I'm supposed to believe you had nothing to do with it?"

Maria flicked a shit-eating grin at her mother.

Ranger raised an eyebrow at Maria. "That was you?" he asked. "Heh, heh, heh. Good going, kid. High five!"

Maria and Ranger slapped each other some skin while Stephanie looked on in a mixture of amusement and confusion.

"She gets this from you, you know," Stephanie said to Ranger after Maria had excused herself.

"Babe," Ranger said.

*

"I don't know why Dad didn't spring for private school," Finn said on the way to Our Lady's School the next morning.

"OLS _is_ a private school," Maria mumbled from the front seat.

Finn rolled her eyes and sighed. "It's not _private_ if there are other people there," she said. "I mean, if he's going to pay for a tutor, can't he pay for one of those that, like, teach at home, or something? Because I still need to color coordinate my boot and sandal collection, and it would be _so_ much easier if I could do that _and_ learn about, like, that guy who wrote all those plays and poems and stuff. You know, at the same time." Finn's cell phoen chirped in her ostrich-feather-and-Swarovsky-crystal-encrusted bag. She fished it out, and checked the display. "Hold on, I have to take this," she said. And she answered the call.

Maria was sunk low in the passenger's seat of the SUV, trying to drown out the one-sided conversation and catch a few more minutes of shut-eye. The SUV slowed to a stop at a red light, and she glanced over at the man behind the wheel. He was tall, well-built, dressed all in black. His name was Bull, and he kept his eyes on the road, hidden behind mirrored shades.

"You _are_ getting time and a half for this, aren't you?" Maria asked him.

Bull slowly turned to look at her, and nodded once.

"It's not enough, is it?"

Bull glanced back at Finn, who was conversing wildly about whether or not vermeil would clash with puce, and then turned his attention back to the road.

"Didn't think so," Maria said. "But if it makes you feel better, you get a bonus for every bullet you take on our behalf."

Bull thought about this for a moment. "Are we talking per bullet or per occasion?"

"Per occasion," Maria said. "And flesh wounds don't count. Everybody gets a flesh wound."

Bull steered the SUV onto Hafler Street and idled in a space by the main entrance. Maria grabbed her bag, dusted the Pop Tart crumbs off her blazer, and got out of the SUV.

"Um, _hello-oo-oo?_" Finn said to Bull from the back seat. "The door isn't going to open itself."

*

The administration office at Our Lady's School was cold stone and dark wood, with thick blood-red curtains over the windows and a six-foot tapestry of Jesus on a crucifix hanging on the wall. Finn looked at the tapestry and made a face.

"Puh-lease," she said, covering her cell phone with her hand. "Guys in loin cloths are _so_ two years ago. What? . . . No, Margie, I wans't talking to _you_, I was talking to someone else . . . Uh-huh . . . Uh-huh . . . Uh-huh . . . that's what _I_ said! . . . I know! . . . No, really, _I know!_ . . . Like, just because he _has_ a boat doesn't mean he's a captain, right?"

A surly-looking woman walked into the administration office. She was tall and slim, with frizzy gray hair pulled back into a bun, and two chicken legs sticking out from under a pair of green plaid culottes and stuffed into orthopedic shoes. She cleared her throat and threw a stern look at Finn.

"Listen, Margie, I have to go," Finn said into the phone. "I'll call you during first period, okay? _Bye!_"

Finn gave a nervous chuckle and dropped her cell phone into her bag.

"My name is Sister Gertrude," the woman said, motioning them into her office. "I'm headmistress of this school. And you must be the Manoso children." She adjusted her glasses and looked down at the two open files on her desk. "Maria and Finn."

"This won't take long, will it?" Finn asked. "I'm supposed to conference with Luisa and Grace in tensies."

"Cell phones are not permitted on school property," Sister Gertrude said. "Neither are boys, drugs or drug paraphernalia, contraceptives, or weapons of any kind, including nail files, eyelash curlers, rubber bands, and pointed sticks."

Maria and Finn exchanged furtive glances. They were both carrying two guns and a knife each, and Maria knew there wasn't a chance in hell Finn would be caught out without her manicure kit.

"You should also be aware that Our Lady's School has a very strict dress code, of which you, Miss Finnigan, are currently in violation," Sister Gertrude said. "Green jumpers or skirts must be worn with a white shirt, neatly pressed, and the school blazer. If you get warm in summer months, you may wear a cardigan in leiu of the blazer, as long as it is green and features the school crest."

Finn scrunched up her face and shook her head. "That's not going to work for me," she said. "I have a skin allergy."

Sister Gertrude sucked in some air and let it out slowly. "A skin allergy?"

Finn nodded. "I'm allergic to green," she said. "Actually, I'm only allergic to certain _types_ of green. Like, the ones tha make me look icky."

"And I suppose you have some sort of proof to corroborate this claim?"

"I have a note from my dad," Finn said. She plucked a small square of RangeMan stationary out of her bag and passed it to Sister Gertrude.

"I see," Sister Gertrude said when she had finished reading. "And does your father always adorn his signature with little pink hearts?"

"Not always," Finn said. "Sometimes he adds stars, too."

Sister Gertude's mouth went tight, and she turned to Maria. "And do you also suffer from this mysterious affliction?"

Maria shook her head. "No, ma'am."

"Well, then," Sister Gertrude said. "I'm glad to hear it."

"But there's a good chance I might have Tourette's." Sister Gertrude stared at her for a beat. "Fuck," Maria said. "Damn."

Sister Gertrude's face tinged bright red. "I'll have you know I am not used to such flagrant disrespect. This school has a history steeped in integrity and good breeding, and I will not have it desecrated by a pair of morally bankrupt miscreants. Against my good judgment, you have been given the opportunity to learn here, to study here, to be groomed for society, but should you choose to continue in this manner, that opportunity will be revoked. Do I make myself clear?"

Neither Finn nor Maria said anything.

"Good," Sister Gertrude said. "Here are your schedules, student handbooks, and a list of suggested reading materials. Should you have any questions, you may make an appointment with a guidance counselor. First period class begins in three minutes. We have a zero tolerance policy on tardies, so I suggest you not be late." Sister Gertrude stood and opened the door to her office. "You are excused."

"Can you _believe_ this?" Finn asked as she and Maria followed Sister Gertrude's instructions to the main hall.

"I have to admit, I'm curious which part you find unfathomable," Maria said as she counted off locker numbers. 12, 13, 14… She looked down at the slip of paper given to her in Sister Gertrude's office and made note of her locker number. 508. That meant her locker was somewhere in Tibet. "A normal person would consider this whole thing a clusterfuck in the making, but you're . . . different."

Finn beamed. "I'm _special_. That's what Daddy always says."

"Yeah, but when he says it, he uses finger quotes."

Finn punched a few things into her cell phone and let out a high-pitched groan. "I can't get any service," she said. "Internet, blocked. Music, blocked. Voice, blocked. Video, blocked. How the hell am I supposed to _learn_ if I'm completely cut off from society? _How?_"

Finn dropped to her knees and curled up in a fetal position.

"Just leave me here," she said. "Just let me die."

"Tempting," Maria said. "Or you could go outside for better reception."

Finn thought about that for a moment. Then she picked herself up, dusted off her jeans, smoothed her hair, and clipped her cell phone onto her belt. "Okay," she said. "Take notes in History for me. And make sure the teacher speaks slowly so I get everything, okay? _Bye!"_

Had Maria been in a better mood, she might have considered letting Finn know that neither of them were scheduled for History this semester. Or maybe not. That felt like work, and Maria wasn't fond of work. In fact, Maria wasn't fond of much anything, save Ginger LeBouff novels and the occasional reconnaissance mission.


End file.
